Pink Aoshi
by Ms Western Ink
Summary: What does it mean when a man turns pink? SL challenge.


**Pink Aoshi**

1 of 1

* * *

"Ah, Omasu?" 

The older woman looked up at hearing the soft voice, her attention momentarily broken from slicing, the blade in her hand stilling. The girl, Misao, was standing in the kitchen doorway with her hands behind her back and a decidedly uneasy expression on her face. It was her eyes, Omasu thought. Misao usually wore very confident eyes but presently her eyes were wide and bright. She looked childlike.

"Yes, Misao?"

The girl ventured forward a few paces inside and Omasu watched her. Even the steps had been small.

"What's it mean when a man turns pink? I mean... Is it bad?"

Omasu blinked and thought. Man? Aoshi? Someone at the market? Misao was good at having "interesting" encounters with the people in the marketplace.

"Uh... pink?"

Misao nodded but offered no further information leaving Omasu to speculate or ask questions to ferret out her answers. Instead, Misao began to bob, rolling back and forth between her heels and the balls of her feet, a half rocking and half up and down motion. Omasu recognized it instantly. It had been a nervous habit of Misao's for years. They had first noticed her starting the movement after she turned ten and it always preceded things that made Misao uncomfortable or nervous.

"Well... Why did he turn pink, do you know? Was he embarrassed or angry, perhaps?"

"No, not that I can remember, it was pretty normal. It was totally quiet and then he turned pink."

Pink?

"Do... Do I know the guy? Is it just part of his personality? Maybe heflushes easily?"

Misao shook her head. "Aoshi-sama never turns pink but... Could he be sick?"

**Aoshi **had turned pink?

Pink?

"Uh... No, no..." Omasu struggled for an answer. She wanted to relieve Misao's anxiety and at the same time it was just confusing. "I'm sure he's fine. Maybe he just needs a bit of fresh air. Some people get flushed when they're too warm. I'm sure he's just fine though."

What else could she say, Omasu wondered? She didn't have a clue what Aoshi's problem was but she was absolutely certain of one thing, she wasn't going investigating to find out.

Misao hesitated and Omasu thought briefly that she would add something, but ultimately she didn't.

"Okay." She turned and walked back out the doorway she'd come in. Omasu was left to her slicing wondering what was going on. It didn't make her curious enough to leave the kitchen and so she continued her work.

* * *

Okon was out back, hunched over a wooden wash bucket and up to her elbows in suds when Misao approached. A fine sheen of sweat was covering the older woman's brow. The once neat arrangement of hair on her head was fraying out here and there.

"Okon?"

Okon stopped her rigorous washing and rested her palms on the edge of the bucket, panting. "Yeah?"

"What's it mean when a man turns pink?"

Pink?

Man?

What men did Misao know? "If this is about Okina, Misao, that just means he's thinking perverted things again. Nothing to worry about."

"No, not him," the girl answered.

"Oh, is this about Aoshi then?" Okon didn't need to wait for Misao's answer. "I'd check his temperature. He was always being stubborn when we were younger, never could admit to being sick."

It _had_ to be about Aoshi. Misao revolved around him.

Misao frowned at her. "I'd thought of that."

"Oh. Well, did you check him?"

"I asked him if he felt well and he said he was fine but before I could insist I check his forehead, he stood up and left."

Okon nodded. "I would definitely check his forehead."

Misao nodded in return. "Maybe you're right."

Okon nodded, Misao nodded and for a moment they just nodded their heads at one another. Then Misao straightened her spine looking relieved and turned to go.

"Thanks!"

"Sure..." When Misao was gone Okon looked back to her bucket of suds. "I'd just like to know why everyone except Okina and Misao has to work," she muttered darkly to herself, again alone.

* * *

Was he sick? The thought had merit. Misao had contemplated the same idea herself but Aoshi-sama was simply not behaving in a sickly manner. He had very purposely avoided her touching him, too. Was it something she'd done? Did she smell bad? Maybe he was just trying to avoid her finding out that he didn't feel well because he wanted to be left alone? 

Back inside, she walked toward the stairs determinately but ascended them very slowly. Each step took her closer to Aoshi-sama and she wasn't sure what she should do. When she finally did reach the top of the stairs the hall seemed longer than it ever had before. Aoshi-sama's room was at the very back, the last room. She took a breath and began the march. His bedroom was right next to hers, they shared a wall. Once, in one of her more silly moments, she had leaned against it with her ear to the surface hoping to hear him breathe.

When she reached his door she stopped, gathered her courage and her scattered battle plan and she knocked. To her surprise, he slid open the door and almost stepped out it. The way he was standing and the short distance he had pulled open the door blocked her view of the room, which she viewed as an odd behavior, and it reinforced her idea that he was sick.

"Hello, Aoshi-sama," she paused. "Feeling okay?"

"I'm not unwell, Misao."

She pouted at him. "Well, just let me feel your forehead anyway! You're worrying me, Aoshi-sama. Please?" It was her most pathetic sounding voice.

Without comment, he took her hand by the wrist and leaned down pressing her palm to his forehead. His mouth was a thin straight line, his skin pale and his eyes the same impassive blue, but she thought she glimpsed some form of annoyance there. He looked perfectly normal. Before she could revel at being able to touch him, he had removed her hand.

"I'm fine, Misao." His voice was firm and brooked no further argument or even discussion on the matter. Just before he slid the door closed she saw the telltale pink flush beginning to work its way up his neck. Then she was staring at the surface of the door wondering what to think. Turning about, she decided on her next target.

* * *

Shiro and Kuro were outside in the garden when Misao appeared before them. Both were sweating profusely in the sunlight. Okon had disappeared and the wash bucket was gone. Mud covered their hands from their fingertips to their wrists. Shiro was the first to look up, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes and inadvertently streaking mud across his forehead. 

"What's up Misao? Come to help?"

She made some light dismissive gesture with her hands. "What's it mean when a man turns pink?"

She watched them exchange curious glances. "Well, what was he doing?"

"Just sitting there," she answered.

"Well... Did you interrupt him when you came in?"

"Disrupt him from what? He was just sitting there," she answered, her tone bordering on defensive. "I just walked in and he was sitting still, his eyes closed, just meditating like usual. Then when I was preparing his tea, he turned all pink across his neck and face and told me he was going to rest instead."

"He left?" Kuro asked.

Misao nodded and waited, her hands linked together behind her back.

"Maybe he just needs some space right now," Shiro suggested, his lips twitching.

"Yeah," Kuro agreed.

They stared at her in silence and she realized they weren't going to say anything else. In fact, they looked like they wanted her to leave. Huffily, she did so.

Clearly unsatisfied, Misao turned and left them. Before she had traveled too far out of audible range, she heard their laughter.

* * *

She was almost out of options. She didn't know what to do, but she was certain that Aoshi-sama's behavior was abnormal. Question was, really, what could she do about it? 

Heading back inside, she discarded her shoes and headed toward the study. There, as expected, sat Okina. He glanced up at her as she entered and his old eyes lit up and twinkled at her.

"Ah, my little darling, how are you today?" Even his voice was cheery.

"Jiya..." The sound was something akin to a whine.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What's it mean when a man turns pink?"

His grin began to twitch and grew wide into a toothy smile and she immediately suspected something was amiss.

"Jiya?"

"Whatever do you mean, 'pink'? Was this man sick perhaps? Or, had he just come in from running? Maybe he was too warm?"

She stared at him a long moment before leaning down, placing her palms flat against the table.

"What did you do to Aoshi-sama?" her voice was sharp and accusatory. She was certain she'd found her answer. He wasn't sick, he'd been... "contaminated" by something Okina had said!

His eyebrows rose and his jaw fell in unison. "Ah, is it Aoshi? What's the matter with him? Are you bothering him again?"

"I had barely walked in the door!" she snapped. "And he was up and gone!"

He made a great show of stroking his beard thoughtfully, tugging his little bow. "Has he been behaving oddly?"

"You horrible ogre! Did you do something? Is he drunk and I didn't notice?"

Okina shook his head absently. "You silly girl. I merely had a discussion with him yesterday about a few things. I think he is finally taking me to heart."

Misao blinked and sank down onto the floor, her anger deflating and her curiosity rising. "A talk?"

Okina nodded at her, his grin reappearing. "It's that time, my child... Speaking of which..." His grin grew fractionally wider. "I think its time that you and I had a little talk, too."

* * *

"Did you guys happen to see Misao and Aoshi tonight at dinner?" Omasu asked as she gathered the dishes. Everyone except the two in question was still seated. Okina looked up from his tea with twinkling eyes. 

"I thought she was looking a bit, 'pink', don't you think?" Omasu continued.

Okina, at the head of the table was smiling behind his teacup. The others exchanged glances and the smiles spread across the table infecting everyone.

"Okina, did you have anything to do with that?" Omasu asked.

"With what?" he asked.

"Now that you mention it... Misao did seem rather eager to leave the table..." Shiro added.

"And she didn't eat much either," Kuro spoke up.

"She stared at her plate for most of dinner," Okon noted. "And when Okina asked Aoshi about his day I thought Misao was going to sink under the table or something."

Okina slapped one thin palm against the wooden table. "Now, now children, do we need to have a little talk?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

A whoop of laughter followed and upstairs two people flushed in embarrassment.

* * *

AN: Someone will mention it so I'll address it… It's not important what Okina said to Misao & Aoshi, don't focus on it too much, you're supposed to wonder. This theme was especially hard, this is the second version, the first I might post later, but its short and rather pointless... We'll see. 

It feels like someone did this idea already ...


End file.
